“Don’t be mad! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to see your birthday, it just happened. And it was impossible to ignore since it was only two days away!”

“Are you mad?” Caleb slid his arms around Archer.

Archer kissed him. “Hard to be … I can’t believe you did all this for me!”

Caleb waved at the chair at the head of the table. “Let’s have some cake!”

They let Archer inhale his breakfast before Dominik led the entire hall in a loud, off-key “Happy Birthday to You.” Archer tried not to visibly cringe—why is the horrendous awkwardness of people singing to you a required part of birthdays?—and avoided eye contact by studying the cake instead.

It was round and tall, with smooth, blue icing that matched the tablecloth dots exactly, and it had its own white fondant polka dots. It was beautiful, really—professional looking—and Archer wondered if maybe Caleb had talked the resort pastry chef into making it for him. And, mercifully, it had only a single white candle on it. They cheered when Archer blew it out. When he cut into the cake, he discovered that it was three layers, two chocolate with vanilla in the middle. Archer dished out the pieces and Betty helped pass the plates around the table.

Archer dug into his first bite with relish. “Oh my God … It’s amazing,” he mumbled through his mouthful.

“Mateo made it!” Betty said, giving Mateo’s shoulder a squeeze. “Can you believe it?”

“You made this?” Archer repeated, dumbfounded. “How? When?”

Mateo blushed. “I think I mentioned my mom was a baker? I helped her all the time, since before I can even remember. I made this last night … well, I guess it was actually this morning. Chef let me use the kitchen after they closed, then I got up early to decorate it once it had cooled. They had some extra fondant and…” He trailed off, cheeks turning a darker pink.

Archer’s heart fluttered, his face heating to what he figured was a matching shade. “That’s … so sweet of you, I—Thank you so much, Mateo.”

Mateo studied his plate, scooping up another bite onto his fork. “You’re welcome.”

“Yes, a man of many talents,” Caleb chimed in. “I guess it helps that you’ve had a lot more time for baking these past few years.”

An awkward silence fell over their end of the table.

“Caleb,” Archer muttered. “That’s—”

“No, it’s fine,” Mateo said quietly to Archer. Then he looked up at Caleb and smiled—the least friendly smile Archer had ever seen, eyes two black pools of disgust. “I heard you didn’t have time to make your boyfriend’s cake, so I was happy to step up.”

Caleb’s smirk faltered, lips pressing into a thin white line.

“I love the cake,” Archer said before Caleb could respond. “Thank you so much for making it.”